Setting: OW
Ezra and Josiah had already eaten. The preacher was on his way to telegraph Mary. Chris was in the farthest corner of the room. His eyes were red-rimmed and the light from them harbored a degree of intense anguish the likes of which the gambler had never seen. The gunslinger was huddled over a cup of coffee. He'd yet to utter a word. Nathan appeared and the seat next to Ezra.
"J.D. okay?" Nate asked, eyeing the other.
"No, but he's young. It will take awhile, but he'll survive this awful nightmare." Ezra recalled lurking in the shadows the night before and hearing the brief heart-wrenching sob. He waited in the dark and watched J.D. gradually get control. He saw the pained face right itself and the shoulders square back. The boy took over an hour, but eventually found his legs and his room. Ezra followed at a distance, smart enough to give the youth his solitude. Once the lamp went off in J.D.'s room, the gambler retired and finally slept.
"Mornin' J.D." Nate said simply as the body found a chair. He winced at the dull eyes and total lack of life in them. Defeated. That was where the young man was. Nathan thought back for a few minutes and rested a tentative hand on the youth's brown-jacketed arm. He felt the muscles tense, but the arm didn't retract.
"I know how you feel, J.D." He recalled the night Isaac died. "I lost my brother... to a lynch mob... when I was fifteen." He sighed and bit his lip as the pain came back.
Nathan's words parted his fog and J.D. lifted his head. He saw the deep sorrow housed in the dark eyes and felt Nathan's pain. Fifteen... and to see your brother hung before your eyes. He couldn't imagine how you got over that. But yet here Nathan sat, offering his hand in comfort. J.D. nodded and turned his palm over, shaking the other's hand. "Thanks, Nathan. It hurts..."
"Yeah..." Nate nodded, "I know."
"I'm not going back to Four Corners," J.D. announced, "I'm going to find them."
"Son, there's a whole lot of desert out there. You could search for weeks and never find a trace," Ezra offered.
"I'm going." J.D. stuck his chin out defiance. Josiah entered and looked at all of them with a little worry.
"What?" Nate asked, reading the preacher's face clearly.
"Trouble in town... maybe. There was a wire from Mary waiting. A couple strangers rode in yesterday. Inez heard them talking, after they polished off a bottle. They're raiders..."
"Alvarez's men?"
They all turned as Chris Larabee finally found his voice. He stood and walked slowly to the preacher, who nodded.
"Yeah... Mary's worried... Inez thinks they're scouts... eyeing the bank and the freight office. From what she heard, there's a dozen men coming. Town without any lawmen, we gotta move, it'll be a massacre."
"Okay, Josiah, you update the sheriff and wire the judge. Ezra, you and Nathan get the horses. J.D...."
"I'm not going back, I told you."
"You get your miserable ass out of that chair and do your fuckin' job!" Chris hollered with such velocity, it nearly shattered the glass windows. "You forgetting that the Wells' place is on the way into town? I've seen what those bastards do, J.D., Miss Nettie and Casey will be brutalized. You want that on your conscience? And what about Billy and Mary and the others..."
J.D. felt the steel grip that pulled him out of the chair. He stared hard at the icy green eyes housed in the furious face. A vision of Casey, lying in tattered clothes and bloody, her innocence stolen away, chilled him. Billy catching a stray bullet... Mary helpless at the violent hands of the gang.
"Goddammit Kid, what the hell's the matter with you? I taught you better than that. Get your head up and use them balls you got."
"Buck..." J.D gasped and shook the clear voice that assaulted his mind. The voice was right, Buck had taught him better. He jerked free of Chris and shoved past him. He got to the door and waited.
The other four watched in admiration and surprise as the youth faded more and a man emerged. Someone who was very clearly on the right path, echoing his best friend's creed. Chris almost felt Buck in the room, could swear he saw Buck hit the Kid with his hat. He felt as proud as Buck would, watching the boy grow into his boots.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" J.D. demanded hostily, "Let's ride." He ordered and saw Chris raise a sandy eyebrow and turn his lips up slightly.
A spreading pool of blood puddled under the former lawman and covered the bounty's face. The crimson stained head gave the hunter a smile. He tossed the bedroll down, readying it for Tanner's body. He hovered over the bodies for a moment and nudged Tanner with his boot. He eyed his horse several feet away and bent to grab the dead Texan. The strike was so swift and the pain so severe the scream died before it was born. Nelson's eyes widened as they watched Tanner, like Phoenix, rise from the ashes. His twisted face was scored with bloodied warpaint and the unholy howl that left Tanner's lips, struck pure terror in him.
Vin left the knife buried to the hilt in the killer's kneecap. He used his left leg and right arm in unison. The leg drew behind the startled man and with one swift move, he lifted both of the attacker's legs. He used the meaty bottom of his right hand and struck the bridge of hunter's nose, breaking it instantly. Blood gushed over the stunned face and the body toppled backwards. Vin pinned both arms by straddling him and gripped the knife, still embedded in the knee. One viscous twist severed the tendons and ligaments. He relished the agonizing scream and pulled the man up by his hair.
"Talk..." Vin commanded sternly, his eyes bulging. The site of Buck lying in a pool of blood sent him into a danger zone. A place where he only felt heat and saw fiery explosions of red anger. The pain that coursed through his veins was one of vengeance for a brother down.
Duke was so stunned, he couldn't reply. He could barely breath, let alone think clear. The kid was fast and smart, his moves were like a wildcat. He eyed the bloodstreaked face with feral eyes a startling blue and felt his courage die. This kid was a killer alright and had bloodlust in his eyes. He drew up what little saliva he could muster and spit at the angry face.
Vin wiped the spit from his cheek and growled. "Wrong fuckin' answer..." He slid the knife slowly, cutting through more tissue and muscle. He drank in the screams and held the bloody knife against the killer's scalp. With a flick of his wrist, several inches of scalp were separated from the skull.
"Who the hell are ya?"
Duke Nelson had been shot, stabbed and even horse trampled. Nothing prepared him for the pain he now was experiencing. There was no word to describe it... he heard the high-pitched scream and paled when he realized it was his voice. Tanner would kill him, of that he was sure. But it would be slow and brutal. Blood loss, pain and shock were causing his reactions to slow down. Before he could utter a thought, the knife bit into his scalp again. He felt the Texan's sticky fingers ripping his scalp away slowly, every bloody inch painfully separating from his skull. He screamed and screamed... and then began babbling hysterically.
"Nelson... Duke Nelson... It was Adamson's idea..."
"...s'that piece o'shit out here with ya?" Vin teethed, punctuating the thought with the blade.
"No... no... I'm alone..." He gasped, "His idea... years ago... the bounty's had accidentsand I'd come for the body. We split the take... he even framed a few... we killed a wealthy rancher's kid a few months back... Dumas... Dugan, yeah... Kyle Dugan... his old man put up money... bounty was $2500... framed a drifter..."
"...so ya figured ya pick off me and Buck... and take m'hide in..." Vin gritted and saw what was left of the disfigured head bob. "Wrong fuckin' decision..." He snarled, taking the rest of the bloody scalp and driving his knee into Duke Nelson's neck, crushing his larynx. "Rot in hell ya yella son-of-a-bitch."
Vin wiped the knife and his bloody hands on the dead man's pants and rose. He staggered back over and dropped down next to Buck. The large pool of blood scared the hell out of him. He gently eased the still body over and heaved a sigh of relief at the blue eyes looking back at him.
Buck had seen Vin's brutal interrogation and the scene stunned him. Tanner didn't appear to be a savage, Buck's instincts told him differently. But there was no mistaking the bloodlust he'd witnessed. He eyed the crimson streaked face still riddled with anger, housing blue eyes soft with concern.
"...nice calling card..." he moaned, eyeing the ratty, thatch of the killer's hair which was lying several feet away. "You okay, Tanner?"
"I'm a mite pissed off..." Vin replied, wiping his face with his sleeve and unbuttoning Buck's shirt. He quickly determined the damage.
"I wouldn't have guessed," Buck chuckled and grimaced, stifling a groan. Vin pressed his hand hard.
"Sorry... gotta stop the bleedin'." Vin offered, "Here, let's get the coat offa ya." Vin eased him upright and grunted as Buck's full weight hit him. He clumsily got the coat off and rolled Buck onto his side. Keeping one hand on the sweat-slicked marshal's face, he spoke clearly.
"Marshal, I gotta turn ya over and check on the exit."
Buck began to chuckle again, in between fighting for air. Here was a man who he'd seen torture and brutalize a killer, a site which chilled him to the bone. This same man's gentle hands now were healing and the voice a soft apology. It didn't seem possible... who was the real Vin Tanner? His face was covered in sweat and he shut his eyes, to prevent the stinging tears. He groped blindly and latched onto Tanner's shirt. He felt the almost feather-like touch of the fingers on his back. The kid was a puzzle. Finally, he was eased onto his back. He blinked up at the face hovering over him, shut out by the hot sun. He smelled defeat even before Tanner opened his mouth.
Vin used one hand on Buck's side, stemming the flow and pressed hard. "Nearest town is over a day from here with hard ridin'. The bullet'll poison ya... kill ya long 'afore we get there." He leaned close to Buck's face and felt every bead of sweat now pouring down his body. He drilled the dark blue eyes, now black with pain, with own soulful pair. "It's gotta come out."
"So get to it..." Buck replied, full of trust and without hesitation. Their eyes met for a second and Buck felt a wave of strength flowing freely from the sky blue ones above him. He inhaled deeply, taking in Tanner's pride and feeling stronger. He smiled, nodded once, and extended his hand.
Vin saw the hand and shook it, gripping it hard. He felt a clench in his gut, when the sun glinted off the silver star on Buck's chest. Although it was Buck Wilmington, his friend who was lying before him, it was a stranger who was putting his life in a prisoner's hands. That show of faith was all he needed. He placed Buck's hand against the wound, low on the side and pressed hard.
"Ya keep pressure on it," Vin advised, rising. "I'm gonna get somethin' t'bandage it with."
He stripped and took off his undershirt. Putting his shirt back on, he used Buck's knife to cut the undergarment into long strips. He bound the wound and tied it off. Then he folded Buck's tan coat and laid it under his soaked head. He saw the eyes sliding shut and paused.
"Ya rest up and I'll get us set up."
Vin eyed the arid terrain and frowned. Dotted with cacti, shrubs, and other geographic decor, it's terrible beauty now posed a deadly threat. The first priority was a horse. The two they rode in on were long gone. He eyed the sorrel tied to a cactus several yards away. He jogged over and rummaged through the saddlebags. There was a sliver of soap, a razor, some money and a bottle of liquor. In the other side was a mug, coffee, beef jerky and a small jar of peach preserves. A full canteen... he frowned and eyed the sun overhead. Even if Buck survived the operation, a fever would set in. He'd seen Nate bathe down enough of them to know how much water was required. He'd have to make a travois and get Buck moving by nightfall. The sooner they got to a town, the better chance he'd have with a doctor's hands. He eyed the horizon and recognized where they were. Tuscosa's shadow was hovering in the distance, mocking him. He was back in Texas.
Sighing, he turned and eyed the twin cacti alongside a small group of rocks. He knelt by Nelson's dead body and stripped it. Using the pants and the saddle blanket from the horse, he made a canopy four feet by three. It was enough to shade Buck. He placed the bedroll that Nelson was going to roll him in, under the new shade. Food. He eyed the Christmas Cactus's bright red fruit and saw a prickly pear cactus nearby. That was good. The purple and red fruit and the tubular turnip-like root from the Night Blooming Cereus, would be adequate. Water... he didn't even want to think about that. Sighing, he went back over to Buck.
Buck didn't realize he'd dozed off until a gentle hand shook him. His side burned like the devil and his head was pounding with wild abandon. The kid didn't look much better. He eyed the shelter Vin had made and smiled weakly.
"Yer room's all ready..." Vin teased, and then scolded Buck who tried to rise. Don't... ye'll start bleedin'... I'll get ya there." He eyed the concern on the other's face and paused. "Ya know, I think the sun's helpin' m'cold."
Buck tried not to laugh, but a sad chuckle slipped out and he yelped. He watched Tanner's lips turn up slightly and shook his head.
"Don't... please..." he protested, as the weak laughter bit his wound hard.
"Sorry..." Vin ducked and moved behind Buck.
Buck had his doubts, Tanner wasn't the picture of health and totin' broken ribs. He knew the grunts from the bounty weren't just from exertion. He helped as much as he could and finally relaxed a little when he was eased onto the bedroll. The shade helped his vision and he saw Tanner sitting against the rock, eyes closed and leaning forward. He frowned, bit his lip in guilt and watched the pain radiate off the younger man. Both hands were wrapped around his damaged ribs. The sunburn from the day before was blistering, his face was a bruised mess and his lips were cracked and bleeding.
"You know Tanner," Buck croaked, eyeing the sad body. "You look like shit."
"Fuck y'all Bucklin..." Vin snapped, the automatic reply to Buck's favorite ribbing of the tracker. He heard the sharp intake and immediately regretted his shortsightedness. For some reason, that word, which usually lit up Buck's face with warmth, now filled it with terror. "Aw, hell... " he moaned and painfully moved over. Buck's face was slack and the blank eyes were lost in another place. Vin gripped the slack hand and squeezed gently, waiting for the scream he knew would come.
It was a dark and he was in pain. A terrible lancing in his side. Bloodied bandages lie in a pile nearby. He was warm... hot even. Sweat poured down his face. A gentle hand tended him. He eyed the large tent and recognized it's Indian markings. His pained face saw the remnants of battle nearby. Bodies... dozens of them... all dead... lie like toy confederate soldiers haphazardly strewn. A voice was calling to him. The large face, gray hair and blue eyes smiled at him. Words of comfort came from the man's lips. Buck felt them and turned to see the soulful dark eyes housed in chocolate skin. Trust the touch. He nodded at the healer and turned again, Chris was there and someone else... a buckskinned jacket... a familiar soft drawl. The pain exploded in his head and he screamed.
"Dammit, I'm sorry, Bu... Marshal." Vin hissed, pinning Buck's weakening body to the ground. The other man slumped and fell silent. A deep sorrow filled him, fearing that Buck might be lost to him forever. What if Buck never got his memory back? Then he paled and realized the more damaging scenario. What if he did? What if Buck remembered everything? He knew Wilmington's big heart was second to none. If Buck remembered... he'd been shattered. Buck didn't see pain that overtook the pale blue eyes. He didn't see the trembling hand touch his cheek. He didn't hear the heartfelt apology. He was blissfully lost in an inky black void.
Vin gathered their meager supplies around them. There were saddlebags, a rifle, two knives, Nelson's shirt cut into bandages and a bottle of liquor. He plucked some fruit from the nearby cacti and kept them in Buck's hat. He slowly eyed the nearby terrain and his eye caught a shrub in the distance.
It was a medium-sized shrub about four feet high and appeared to have no leaves. It looked like a thicket of numerous green, jointed, leafless branches with small buds. Vin's years living with the Comanche and Kiowa taught him about survival and medical plants. That nondescript shrub was a Mormon Tea bush and used by most of the tribes for it's healing qualities. Buck would need it to fight the infection and fever. Vin eyed his unconscious friend and was glad for the steady breathing and strong pulse. The bleeding stopped and he set about completing his mission.
Twenty minutes later, he dropped at Buck's side. He was spent and his fingers itched to drain the canteen. But he settled for the small red fruit from the Christmas Cactus. After resting for several minutes, he began. He started a small fire from the cottonwood he'd gathered, he used a small amount of boiled water to sterilize the knife. Leaving it inside the coffeepot, he unbuttoned Buck's shirt and took off the bandages. He swabbed Buck's side with some whiskey and studied the wound. It was several inches above his hip. He could have boiled some horsehair for stitching, but had no needle, so he'd have to cauterize. He uncapped two bullets and washed his hands with the small bit of soap and a little of the whiskey. He knelt by Buck's side and picked up the limp hand. Raising his eyes heavenward, he issued a prayer.
"Great Spirit, whose voice I hear in the winds and whose breath fills m'lungs, hear me. I need yer strength and wisdom." Vin paused and closed his eyes, clutching Buck's hand to his heart. "M'eyes have seen the majesty of yer beauty, m'hands have touched yer face each dawn, m'ears have become sharp t'yer voice and now I call on ya." Vin took a deep breath and waited "I've seen yer grace in every livin' thing and have felt yer blood in every stream. I bow before ya now, offerin' my humble heart. I need yer strength, not fer m'self... but to guide these hands." He held up his right hand and retained his hold on Buck's with his left. "... to save the life of m'brother. His heart's noble and his spirit proud. Fill me with yer strength an be m'guide." Vin waited a moment and gently replaced Buck's hand.
He picked up the knife and began. The bullet wasn't deep, but it bled alot. Vin found it, removed it and cauterized the wound, shutting himself off from Buck's cry of pain. He covered the slumbering man with his shirt and jacket. He left Buck again, to find that Cereus plant and dig up the roots. It wasn't a steak, but it would taste like one. His progress was slow, hampered by his throbbing, burning ribs and aching head. At least when he was sneezing, the pressure went away. Now his head felt like it weighed twenty pounds. It seemed to take forever, but finally he dropped by Buck's side. He lifted Buck's head and tapped the pale face. Two slits appeared and Vin coaxed some water into him and finger fed him small bits of fruit. Buck never completely woke, but sucked the pulp from Vin's fingers. Satisfied, Vin eyed his little camp and decided to collect some cottonwood to make a travois. It was crude, a but adequate. A triangular ensemble, bound by ropes, the dead man's undergarments and Vin would use the pants that were currently shading Buck.
The sun told him it was just past noon and the heat was stifling. He ate a prickly pear and nudged more pulp into Buck off his finger. He was exhausted and aching from head to toe. If they were to leave at nightfall, he'd need some rest. He slid back against the rock and covered his face with his hat. With the rifle cradled in his arms, his heavy eyes slid shut, allowing the battered body to rest.
Billy Travis frowned and eyed the remaining two arithmetic problems. It wasn't that he didn't like school, he did. It was that by the end of the day, he was tired. Wasn't it enough that he was in the schoolroom all day? He placed the slate on the ground next to his boots and held his hands up. He counted the fingers and wrote down the answer. He was sitting on the boardwalk out in front of his mother's office. She'd calling him in for supper soon and then a story before bed. He drew his blond head up as movement caught his eye. A large group of strangers were riding into town. They had mean faces and squinty eyes. Billy knew they were bad. Yup, the bad guys always had squinty eyes. He grabbed his slate and ran inside.
"Mama! Mama!"
Mary heard the terror in the small boy's voice and dropped the spoon. She wiped her hands and ran through the dining area to the front room, converted into an office. Billy's face was flushed with excitement. His blue eyes were wide with fear. He landed with a thud, his head thumping against her abdomen. She winced and knelt down, grabbing his shoulders.
"What's wrong?"
"They're outside," he gasped, whirling his blond head, "...hundreds of 'em... they're awful mean looking. You gotta get Chris..."
Mary's heart was pounding as she pulled Billy behind her and walked towards the window. Her face paled and her heart trembled. There was no mistaking the expensive Spanish styled outfits of the rough soldiers. She saw Inez peering out from the Saloon and worried. Without any peacekeepers to protect them, they had little hope. She raised her eyes to the ceiling and turned to the boy.
"Billy, you go upstairs and stay with Miss Nettie and Casey."
"NO!" he protested, stomping his foot. "You come too!" He tugged on her hand.
"I can't honey... I have to help Inez and Mrs. Potter." She flinched, hearing glass breaking and saw the window of the General Store shatter. Suddenly, Nettie was flying down the stairs, clutching her Winchester.
"No!" Mary denied, "I need you to protect Billy. Where are Gloria and the children?" she asked of the Potter family.
"She's at the McTavish's, south of town. Craig left his eldest, Alex, to guard them and their own. Mike, Sean and Glen are over the Saloon," she nodded and Mary saw gun scopes peeking out the windows.
"The rest?" Mary hedged.
"Scattered about town, without Chris and them, we don't have many guns," the elderly woman fretted. "Three on the roof, two patrolling the balcony of the hotel, one in the room over the billiard hall, Inez and us." She gave a squeeze of courage on the young woman's sleeve. "Thank God you had the sense to move the money from the safe. I just hope they buy it..."
Mary didn't want trouble, but from the bloody trail this gang left, she didn't have much choice. Previous banks had been robbed and the owners and workers murdered. Mary had the manager reluctantly agree to move the money, stocks and other valuables from the safe. They were locked in a trunk out at Chris Larabee's shack. She watched as all the men remained mounted, save one. The tall handsome man with silver hair stepped off his horse. She swallowed hard, Don Alfredo himself. This was more than a robbery.
"Oh God!" she hissed, spotting the two spies who'd ridden in earlier, dragging a disheveled Inez from the Saloon. She picked up the rifle and followed Nettie Wells outside. Inez's face was bruised and her eyes full of fire. Two hands pinned her slim arms behind her back. A surly looking recruit, who'd ridden in next to the Don, stepped forward and gripped her chin. Mary couldn't hear what he said, but Inez spit in his face and cursed him. He wiped the spit off, pulled her hair back roughly and kissed her hard. His free hand ripped the front of her blouse and groped her openly. His actions were halted with a sudden force, when his hat was shot off his head.
"The next one goes between your legs, you animal." Nettie warned, cocking the rifle. "Inez..." she nodded and saw the silver head dip once. The guards released the shaken tavern owner and she slapped the beast hard. She moved to Mary's side and tied the shawl Mary gave her around her nakedness. Nettie was furious. She didn't flinch when a dozen-and-a-half guns suddenly were trained on her. "Hah... " she scoffed, eyeing the bemused face of the living legend. She walked right up to him and stared him down. "You take these animals and get out of our town. We got nothing you want."
Don Alfredo raised a hand and issued a warning that no shots be fired. He admired this tiny, spunky elderly woman. He imagined her courage and tenacity was the reason she stood here in front of him so boldly. A lesser breed would have been buried years ago, done in by this wild frontier. He slid off the horse and towered over her, but she never wavered. Rather the eyes grew steelier and chin jutted up at him in defiance.
"I like you Senora... you have a fire inside." He nodded and eyed Mary and Inez boldly. "To find such fire and beauty in one place is indeed my good fortune." He'd been conquesting women of all varieties since he was twelve. These two were a striking pair, fire and ice... he noted of the dark headed beauty and the cool blond.
"I'll blow your good fortune clear across the street," Nettie warned, reading his intent. The rifle raised to a point above his knees. "... if you so much as look at either of them that way again."
He laughed heartily and took the rifle from her protesting hands. He shoved her over to where the other two stood. He eyed the threesome and knew immediately who the leader was. Her ice eyes were like twin diamonds, hard and glittering. He didn't hide his lust as he strode over and raked his hooded dark gaze over her firm body. She stood her ground, keeping her fear locked inside, away from his eyes. She had the same fire the old one did. The creamy white skin and pale eyes complimented the fair hair. She flinched only slightly when he lifted her hand and kissed it.
"Senora, I am Don Alfredo Alvarez and I wish to speak with you alone."
"No!" Nettie protested, pushing her way in front of Mary.
"It's alright Nettie," Mary hushed and jerked her hand free, wiping it on her skirt. "If you have something to say, say it here."
"Very well," He nodded. "My men are hungry and tired. We have ridden all day through the heat. Your hotel will do nicely. Dinner will be in one hour in the main room downstairs. You and I will dine privately in my room. Then we will discuss the terms of our arrangement."
"Who the hell do you think you are!" Nettie snapped, shoving the large, muscular chest.
"A well armed man whose patience is wearing thin!" he snapped, slapping her hard enough to send her sprawling. Inez dropped next to her and helped her up.
"That's enough!" Mary hissed, eyeing him coldly. "Is that a sign of your manhood? Beating an old woman?"
"I am sorry," he nodded, "I lost my temper. One hour Senora, in my room. Riccardo will wait here and accompany you." He said of the guard who manhandled Inez. He cupped herchin briefly and saw the fire flare in her icy eyes. His blood stirred and he laughed smugly and turned away.
Mary knew what he wanted and pushed the thought away. For a brief second, she eyed the horizon, hoping somehow that they'd come. But even if they left at first light, they'd be hours from here. Stall for time... that's what she'd have to do. Her stomach turned when she realized what that meant. As if reading her thoughts, Inez touched her sleeve. The other woman said nothing, but her dark eyes shone with admiration. She rested a hand against Mary's cheek and the blond saw tears pooling.
"Don't Inez... I'll be fine," she said quietly, squeezing the slim olive hand. "Don Alfredo..." she barked and saw the silver head turn. "I want your word...no harm will come to any citizen of this town. You keep your men in line."
"Agreed." He nodded, "You tell those gringo's who are hiding on the rooftops and in the buildings to surrender or they'll be taken by force."
Mary's heart sank, but she complied, signaling the men to lay down arms. The had only a few guns against close to two dozen armed terrorists. It would be a bloodbath.
"Inez, Nettie, you go to the hotel and start cooking. Take Billy and Casey with you. Don't let him out of your sight." She implored and Nettie nodded.
Nettie Wells sighed and like Mary, found her eyes lingering on the darkening lines outside town. She grasped the cross that hung on a chain around her neck and felt a tug inside. Vin had given it to her on her birthday. It was a silver cross inlaid with a tiny piece of turquoise and finished off in a fine hand. That he'd made it himself, that meant more to her that words could say. But the look in his eyes when she opened the box...that would stay with her always. Where was the blue-eyed boy who'd captured her heart? She felt Inez's gentle tug and nodded. Taking Billy's hand, she headed for the Saloon.
"Damn Josiah, what the hell is that?" Chris screwed his face up at something skinned and being skewered. The short break to rest and care for the bodies, four-footed and two, would be a short one. Nathan shoved Chris down on a log and glared at him hard.
"Sit down," the healer ordered, glaring back just as hard. "Never you mind what the hell it is. You're lucky you're still sittin' upright. Come on," he directed, nodding at the wounded arm.
"It's fine..." Chris pulled back, only to be met by a wall of resistance.
"It's not up for discussion," Nate protested, eyes narrowing at the unusual hoarseness in the voice. His trained gaze saw the blond wince as he swallowed and watched the chest jerking. "You ain't foolin' me, Chris Larabee. Quit stiflin' them sneezes... let 'em out."
"Sneezes?" Josiah's head rose.
Like a cat, Ezra's green eyes narrowed and he slunk closer. "Has another malady befallen you, Mr. Larabee?"
Chris's glare ended any further conversation and he was about to chastise Nathan, when he let his guard down. A series of wet sneezes ensued and a rattling cough. "Fuck!" He snapped and mumbled.
"What'd he say?" J.D. asked, seeing the grin tugging at Ezra's lips.
"I believe the translation..."
"Ezra..." Chris warned, wiping his nose. "...goddamn sorry-assed Tanner cold..."
"...precisely," Ezra nodded.
"Breast or wing, Ez?" Josiah asked, nodding to the yet-to-be-named meat roasting.
"That all depends..." the gambler winced, "Of what genus was that a former member of?"
"Don't ask," the chef deadpanned, skewering two more of the suspicious looking creatures. "Everybody's a critic. Vin would have been first in line. That boy always appreciated my cooking."
"Yes, well, Mr. Tanner's tastes and those of the civilized were often diametrically opposed." He wrinkled his nose, "I'll pass." the southerner turned away, "Mr. Dunne?"
"What's the matter with you two?" His voice was hostile and his eyes burning. "How can you make a joke about that?"
"Take it easy, J.D.," Josiah faced him, "and watch that tone in your voice."
J.D. shoved away from the quartet and moved towards the horses. His insides were all churned up. How could they not feel the pain he did? How could they eat and carry on as if Buck and Vin were with them? He felt his face coloring and stopped by Annabelle. Buck's pride and joy was the gray bay and she nuzzled the youth. He stroked her mane and recalled the first real conversation he'd had with Buck. It was the first evening in the Indian Village. He sighed as the hole inside seemed to widen.
"He's young..." Ezra warned, "and his pain is not without merit. How does one replace something so valuable?" He noted of their two missing friends. He turned away and slid his flask out, disappearing towards the trees.
Chris started to shake his head when Josiah ambled over with two biscuits wrapped in cloth along with some meat. But he saw the lines forming on Nathan's face and relented.
"Hint?" He eyed the plate and the eldest, who just smiled. "Thanks, you're all heart."
Nate and Josiah moved off to fix plates for themselves. Chris nibbled at the meat and forced it down. He chomped on a biscuit and winced as the carbolic that Nathan used so liberally seemed to be eating the skin right off of his arm. He eyed J.D. across the camp, silently checking on the horses. He was working on nerves right now, but when the dust settled, it would be a different story. J.D.'s eyes met his over the saddle of Buck's gray bay and Chris nodded, sending a silent signal. J.D. returned the nod and continued his ministrations. The Kid would be okay, Buck had already done a helluva job.
J.D. felt Chris's strength and his tension eased up a bit. He reflected on the leader, who'd already buried his wife and son. Now he lost his two closest friends.
"He's hurting too..." he mumbled, almost feeling Buck behind him. He met the strong green gaze and nodded back. "I'm okay, Chris..."
"Eat up, we're losing time." the blond dictated, rising and heading for the whiskey Josiah offered.
The shock, blood loss and weakness should have kept him asleep. He shifted slightly and the pain rammed into his head and side, sending twin waves of agony over his lean frame. He bit his lip, vowing not to cry out and awaken his exhausted companion. He'd been watching the pale blue sky darkened for some time. He eyed the stark beauty of the desert and let his mind wander. His happy childhood back East, growing into manhood through fire and flesh, his years in the army and meeting Chris. He flinched, it still hurt terribly. The look on Chris's face when they'd ridden in from Mexico. The smoldering look in the green eyes matched the charred ruins. He closed his eyes, still hearing Chris's wounded scream of agony as he clutched Adam's charred body to his chest. Buck's heart clenched and tears sprung in his eyes. The sob that escaped was a reluctant one, born of a wound still festering.
Vin's eyes shot open, keen ears hearing the soft cry. He turned to quickly and stumbled forward, landing on Buck's legs. He felt a hand on his back and the warm voice reassured him.
"...steady Tanner... you okay?"
Vin eyed the darkening sky and cursed. He stood too quickly and staggered, sitting down hard. He went to rise again and a hand clamped on his shoulder. "Hey..." Buck warned, worried about the dizzy man. He intensified his grip despite the pain it caused on his chest. Finally the shaggy headed turned. "...thanks..."
Vin nodded and lifted Buck into a sitting position. He held out the canteen, but the larger man shook his head. "Ya gotta drink, ya got a fever..." the tracker protested.
"You first, Doc..." he teased, and saw the face screw up into a scowl. He hissed his breath in painfully, as an unwanted image slammed into him. Tanner's scowling face in a bed...the man with soulful brown eyes scolding him...Chris glaring. "No..." he hissed and the pain in his head exploded. He tried to move, but Tanner's arms stopped him. He fought briefly before surrendering to the intense pain.
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